DAVID MICHELSEN |
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Street Opera June 21st, 2006 Well, it’s been some time. Summer time and the livin’s easy. Not much opera to be heard in town these days, unfortunately. Today, I was, however, in for a nice little surprise, as I casually strolled through down town Copenhagen. As I neared the old observatory, Rundetårn, I heard some very well known music: Der Vogelfänger bin ich ja . . . I was wondering where it was coming from but it turned out to be a street opera singer performing to a tape of piano renditions of his repertoire of arias. I couldn’t at first see him as he was singing in the colonnade of the student hall, Regensen. I think he might have chosen this position to rouse people’s curiosity. He was musically quite eloquent, considering the circumstances. Some who passed by were indifferent to his art, others deliberately tried to distract him. But he had a good German diction and a nicely projecting voice. I did as others did and offered the guy a few coins. I Wish I Could Have Heard Rauzzini May 15th, 2006 I wonder what Milano was like in 1773. It can’t have been too bad - it inspired Mozart to write that glorious vocal piece, the Exsultate, jubilate. Yesterday, there wasn’t too much to be cheerful about, however. I heard this piece performed, not in San Antonio Abate, but in Copenhagen. First, I must admit I wasn’t fond of missing the orchestra. Yesterday the motet, as Mozart called it, was performed by soprano and organ only. The organ player had a very . . . saccharine approach to the work that I didn’t like at all. I felt he was subduing the intensity of emotion somehow. It was as if he performed it . . . for kids. Soft touches, no attack, all movements performed in almost the same manner. It was, to be honest, a little boring. As a matter of course, this affected my impression of the soprano’s singing. Perhaps the fact that the text is in Latin is also a problem. The words “exsultate, jubilate” shouldn’t be too difficult, though, and the “alleluia” of the fourth movement should be rather obvious, too. Why, then, couldn’t I hear any outbursts of joy? This piece is about religious relief and thankful happiness. Why did I not feel addressed as a member of the audience? As I see it, the singer is directly addressing the congregation, delivering a message: share the joy! The soprano in question had a passable technique. Her voice wasn’t unattractive but it lacked colour, I thought. A little more personality. I did, however, get the impression that she had trouble with her top notes. The final C was not so beautiful. But she did give it her all. I wish I could have Rauzzini though. But I live in Copenhagen, not Milan, and this is 2006, not 1773. The Kundry Syndrome May 10th, 2006 An audience of devoted Wagnerites congregated in the Copenhagen cinémathèque tonight for a screening of Syberberg’s Parsifal. I was there, too. Syberberg’s style is not that of Robert Wilson, nor is it the historical style of Bayreuth, nor is it what some refer to as Euro Trash. Syberberg’s approach is something completely different and unique. From the very beginning of this film you get the impression that this is going to be special. You see Kundry set up as a fortune teller looking into a crystal ball. And Syberberg’s Parsifal is indeed a vision: It is vision of puppet show, theatre, film, and more at the same time. The genres continually form new constellations: the puppets may enter the theatrical action, for example, as when Kundry caresses a puppet Parsifal in act II before kissing him. The lighting is ingenuous, ever changing and wonderful. The set even more so: I remember the surprise I experienced the first time I saw this movie, when it dawned upon me, that all the action took place in and around a giant copy of Wagner’s death mask. This produces many interesting effects, as when the forest or garden scene of the third act is set directly under Wagner’s nostrils (!) This is not realistic theatre. Syberberg is not dealing in suspension of disbelief. This is a highly symbolic representation. There are many references to elements outside of the immediate context of Parsifal as a drama. There are historical references to the theatre at Bayreuth, to Ludwig II, and to Nietzsche. And there is a Nazi flag, and at one point you even see the conductor in a filmic projection in the background. It is all highly original. One of the most interesting characters of the piece is Kundry, bound as she is in slavery to her impure condition. I thought the play between Parsifal and Kundry extremely well done in this movie. In the 2nd act they do not look at each other, and they are not seen together: the camera either focuses on Kundry or Parsifal. Except of course for the kiss. And even at that moment they do not look each other in the eyes. This is a telling fact and shows that the two characters really do live in separate worlds, that communication is not possible. Syberberg intelligently mirrors this negative situation in a corresponding positive. In the third act there is a long and significant moment where the douce Kundry looks Parsifal in the eyes and slowly moves in his direction, eventually placing a kiss . . . on his forehead. There are two kisses in this film . . . but how different! Parsifal is one of my favourite operas. I first heard it on CD and LP some years ago. The pure magic of the music has kept me entranced ever since. This opera has cast a spell on me that I cannot break. I keep returning to it as if to exhaust its meaning. As if I could free myself of the grasp of the opera by coming back asking for more. I am, however, not sure I want Erlösung from my operatic passion. I know I must listen to Parsifal again. And again. Komm, liebe Zither, komm May 7th, 2006 Attracted by the names of Mozart and Beethoven among others, I attended a a free church concert this afternoon. The concert opened with two songs by Grieg for tenor and piano. The tenor seemed to be straining to be heard. I wasn’t very fond of the way he played with the dynamics, letting his voice grow in volume to produce an effect. This exposed a . . . less pleasant voice, in my opinion. It lacked brilliance and colours. The tenor problem was even more apparent in the Mozart selections: Die Zufriedenheit and Komm’ liebe Zither, komm. These are beautiful songs - and probably not very easy. But he cracked notes and bordered on flat singing. I felt embarrassed on the tenor’s behalf. The Beethoven piece was Sonatine in c-moll, adagio. For mandolin and piano, which was very interesting. I liked it but would have preferred a little legato from the players. The best piece of the evening was selections from 16 Walzer, op. 39, by Brahms. They played 7 of them and did it well. Finally we got Cinq priPres by Milhaud. Again this tenor was singing, and he confirmed the rather unfavourable impression I had formed of him. I had an impression he didn’t know the meaning of the words he was singing: “Salve Regina, mater misericordiae: vita, dulcedo, et spes nostra, salve”. I couldn’t make out from his singing that he was actually greeting someone and using various names for her. It wasn’t, I am afraid, an afternoon to remember. A Soprano Surprise April 24th, 2006 Boy, surprises. Little did I know that I was in for such a wonderful surprise, such a treat, when I entered Anna Kirke in Nrrrebro tonight. I got a smiling welcome and a programme in my hand and sat down in the pew. We weren’t many present: a little congregation for tonight’s big concert. Randi Gislason kicked my Wagner Week off to a wonderful start. I heard her sing Elisabeth’s prayer from Tannhaüser and the Wesendonk lieder — add to that Danish hymns to be sung by the audience: music by Weyse and lyrics by Ingemann. Who would have thought that these items fitted each other so well? I thought the organizers had made their selections very gently and thoughtfully: there’s a sweet innocence in Ingemann’s lyrics that makes a distinct contrast to Elisabeth’s more poignant sense of guilt but they have a common focus: Erlösung. There were also nice parallels between the Wesendonk Lieder and Ingemann’s “Der stDr et slot i Vesterled”: the setting sun bespeaks our horror mortis. Whereas the rising sun in Ingemann’s poetry gives us the promise of Paradise, Wesendonk seems to be following another train of thought: Und gebieret Tod nur Leben, When I first heard Gislason’s voice, it hit me from behind. I didn’t expect her to be where she was but she was, of course, standing next to the organ player, Aase Morling. Gislason’s is a very large voice, round and rich in overtones, and it easily filled the church, which had very good acoustics, by the way. I hadn’t heard Gislason before but she surprised me as a technically brilliant performer. She was very confident and it was a pleasure to indulge in her sound. She really gave it full throttle. I did not, however, think that this was wholly fitting for a piece like this, but I think she wanted to show us her vocal goods. I also enjoyed her Wesendonk Lieder very much, as it was such an interesting voice. She also pushed a bit here and I didn’t always agree with her interpretation. She was, however, very precise in her pronunciation of the text like a true Wagnerian singer. She could moderate it just a bit on certain consonants: in “steiget aufwärts, süsser Duft” the F in DuFt should not be heard for more than a fraction of a second. But this is a minor objection as her German was very good indeed. She gave a very earnest interpretation of these Lieder, displaying the depths of emotion in Wesendonk’s poetry. It was a great experience. This is a voice I hope to hear again very soon. In opera, in Lieder, anything. What a pleasant surprise. As I got on my bike and rode home in the late evening sunshine in Copenhagen, I couldn’t help smiling to myself and musing: Did I really get this for free? But it’s true: I did. Lucky me. Kožená April 19th, 2006 I heard a Lieder Abend with Magdalena Kožená tonight. I had thought this famous mezzosoprano would draw a considerable crowd. Therefore it was a real disappointment finding only a half-filled house. Here’s an artist of considerable, international renown and where are the music lovers? Probably hearing another so-so performance of La traviata at the opera. The first part of her programme consisted of Mozart songs and Schumann’s Frauenliebe. This repertoire was entirely new to me and I would definitely like a second listen. I had no programme with the texts at my disposal and wasn’t familiar with the text. I had difficulties hearing her pronunciation of the text at times, but this may also be due to the acoustics of a somewhat empty house. Magdalena Kožená has a wonderful voice, which is very persuasive in the middle and upper parts of the register. I did note, however, at least few mishaps when she sang low tones or piano. I also thought her interpretation a little over the top at times, eliciting participation (laughs) from the audience. The second part of the programme was the best. She sang Zigeunermelodien by Dvorak and songs from another Czech composer. This was great: I love to hear singers sing in their mother tongue. It can make a tremendous difference. She finished off the evening with a round of Wolf - the final waltzing tune took the house down. Brava Kožená - and welcome back. Ring Tickets April 12th, 2006 Today I finally bought my Ring tickets. It is a great pleasure to have those tickets in my hands. I paid 648 kroner (approximately 100 dollars) for standing room. The tickets look like ordinary tickets as if this were… business as usual. But of course it’s not! This is a major event and I almost can’t believe it’s happening. I am going to see my first complete Ring cycle very soon! I have been attending this Ring as its different installments have been put together these last few years. I first heard Die Walküre, then Das Rheingold, then Siegfried, and finally Götterdämmerung. The order has been a little jumbled but the opera house may have had its good reasons for that. Now is the time to put it all together and get the story as Wagner meant it to be told! To be continued . . . La Traviata April 10th, 2006 I am home from La Traviata. It wasn’t really great and I actually feel a little downcast about it. I didn’t think Inger Dam-Jensen, the soprano was that well cast in this role. She’s much too lyrical for a Violetta in my opinion. The same more or less goes for the tenor, Niels-Jrrgen Riis. He has a delicate, sun light kind of timbre, beautiful and ornate and quite nice for the Italian repertoire, but somehow he lacked the final few measures of power that would have taken it all the way home. The Germont PPre was John Lundgreen and he was good. Better than the two leads, I think. He was instructed to be very stern and emotionally inaccessible and it worked quite well. But as the show wore on I found myself increasingly at odds with the music and all of a sudden I realized that it was the conductor that irritated me! His sense of rhythm was odd. It kind of had a lilt. In the waltzes, for instance, he’d stress the first beat far too much and make an odd pause before the next. Also, he seemed to insist on marking the music very pointedly instead of giving it room and cultivating a legato. I just found this conducting so hard to believe, for it came from an Italian, someone who must’ve been weaned on the Italian repertoire and Verdi. At the end I began to think of home instead of concentrating on the stage action… The production was traditional. It is brand new - and honestly not much different from the one it replaces. Duh! Why would a theatre want to mount a new production like that? The one they had was beautiful, a true delight. Perhaps it didn’t fit the new stage but I should think it would have been possible to scale productions up and down to fit different requirements. So, in conclusion it wasn’t the best experience. I must go see something else soon to wash away the bad karma. |
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